Sonnet

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

Lady Mary Coke

The gentle maid, whose hapless tale

These melancholy pages speak

Say, gracious lady, shall she fail

To draw the tear adown thy cheek?

No; never was thy pitying breast

Insensible to human woes;

Tender, though firm, it melts distrest

For weaknesses it never knows.

Oh! guard the marvels I relate

Of fell ambition scourg’d by fate,

From reason’s peevish blame.

Blest with thy smile, my dauntless sail

I dare expand to fancy’s gale,

For sure thy smiles are fame.

—H. W.